


Strong Right Arm

by sasha_b



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Comment Fic, Gen, yikes first time for this fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 14:40:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2028822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha_b/pseuds/sasha_b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Athos thinks on friendship and what he really wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strong Right Arm

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ community Comment Fic, prompt: strong right arm.
> 
> ARGH I have only seen this episode twice and I'm sure I got some of the lines wrong, but I couldn't stand it and had to do something for them. 
> 
> Set post Friends and Enemies.

_I thought I'd finally shaken you two off._

Another round of drinks and Athos can almost smile about what had happened. Almost. He doesn't smile, really, except once in a blue moon, and only when it's just the other two around him.

Maybe this new lad will be trust-

"Let's go, Athos."

He sips his drink - fourth? fifth? - and ignores Porthos' hand on his sleeve. It becomes more insistent. The tavern owner is staring at Athos with not a small amount of hatred in his beady eyes - pig eyes, Athos thinks - and he finally rolls smoothly to his feet (still ignoring Porthos' hand) and slips his hat on his head neatly. He doesn't need help.

The street is empty and he and Porthos walk toward his apartments near the river - a tiny place compared to what he'd had (but he's not up for thinking that way) - but that doesn't matter, as he doesn't need anything pretty or physically pleasing anymore. Not to live in. He needs his fighting skill, and his horse, and his drink.

"Come on, you sot. We have drills in the morning. And don't you want to see if Aramis has to leap out of another window tomorrow?"

He turns slightly red-rimmed eyes on Porthos. The other man is smiling, but Athos can sense - can read - the concern in his dark eyes, the normal crinkling at the corners not there. Athos feels _rage_ spring up in him, rage that comes and goes so easily these days; he wants to spit and tell Porthos to stop being so glib, he doesn't need it, thank you.

The necklace he wears is heavy around his neck, heavy as the chains the red guard had had him in earlier today.

_Just shoot already!_

The light from the moon hits him directly in the face and he forces himself to keep from crying out at the invasion - he likes to be in the dark, in corners, his back protected, no one getting into his life, not again, not anymore. He doesn't have any more room for love. Not again.

"I'll walk you up. Must needs to make sure you don't fall over your own boots - can't have your epitaph reading 'survived smear tactics only to die at the hands of very dangerous steps.' Aside from the fact how would it look that I was the one with you? Can't have my own reputation ruined."

Porthos smiles and opens the door that leads to Athos' apartments.

The moon dips behind a cloud, and Athos fingers the necklace that rests over his chest. The crest of the Musketeers that they all wear at their shoulders is stiff and heavy but Porthos has one too - as does Aramis.

He swallows. A tiny bit of love in his life is acceptable.

He follows Porthos up the stairs, staggering only slightly, the forget-me-not necklace clutched in his left hand.


End file.
